


Fragile

by catchystick



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Dorothea's POV, Edelgard's POV, F/M, Ferdinand's POV, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Manuela's POV, Minor Injuries, Minor Spoilers (Various supports), More angst, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29754111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchystick/pseuds/catchystick
Summary: Ferdinand and Dorothea's relationship is delicate, vulnerable, poised to shatter over a single misstep. A second-guessing Ferdinand struggles to advance it.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault & Manuela Casagranda, Ferdinand Von Aegir & Manuela Casagranda, Ferdinand von Aegir & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Uncertain

The ball had been wonderful. Ferdinand had spent most of it flitting between crowds and conversations, enjoying the occasion, and sharing the moment with the many friends he had made over the year.

But the highlight of his night, nay, his whole moon, had been Dorothea.

He asked her to the ball over tea, shortly after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. To his surprise, she had said yes. He had expected her to decline with some sarcastic comment, but her acceptance came all too eagerly.

For a time, Ferdinand was suspicious of her intent. Since the beginning of the year, she had been hostile towards him, reserving a unique hatred for him and him alone. He made efforts to bridge that gap and garner her approval, through earnest conversation and displays of his character, and his labors had finally borne fruit.

She no longer sighed in disgust when he greeted her, rolled her eyes when he flattered her, and within the past few months, she had begun to smile at him over their talks at tea.

But he could tell she still despised him. He could tell she was being dishonest when she flirted with him. He could tell she was mincing words around him constantly. She had barriers and boundaries about her life that he could not break down, and she guarded them ferociously. No matter how close they got, she could not be herself around him.

And she still insisted on playing the same old game with him; a battle of wits and wordplay that left Ferdinand on edge over every discussion.

She would mark her sentences with pointed, double-edged remarks about the nobility, and by association, Ferdinand. And every time, he would need to provide a respectful, dignifying, and charming retort. She always seemed impressed by his quick-thinking, and he enjoyed the mental workout. The rest of the Black Eagles found entertainment in eavesdropping upon their verbal duels, listening with interest at the two birds trying to outmatch the other’s song.

Ferdinand appreciated their relationship, but he found himself exhausted. Every conversation was a battle, and he needed to perform well each time or risk losing his ground. His unwavering confidence, his virtue, and his character all needed to be impeccably maintained at all times. If he faltered, if he broke, she would win the game.

He would not break. _He could not break_.

For if he broke, he feared that she would not be willing to play again.

His worries had been assuaged by the ball. The night itself was a blur to Ferdinand; he remembered the cheerful discussions, the watered-down punch ( _likely Seteth’s doing_ ,) and the many dances he shared with her.

The Ball now concluded; Ferdinand joins the rest of the Black Eagles in the Greenhouse. The whole lot had snuck out with a few bottles of liquor, courtesy of Hilda, for a spot of merrymaking.

The Greenhouse provided the ideal location for secret hangouts: It was not often patrolled, and what few members of the faculty passed by could be easily seen through the windows. The Greenhouse was also warded with a magic that produced a steady warmth, maintaining the tropical environment within. The heat fogged up the windows, preventing onlookers from gazing in and seeing any miscreants.

And now, with the formal event concluded, he found himself sitting next to the grate that split the greenhouse’s flowerbeds, observing a staring contest between Hubert and Petra.

“C’mon Hubert, you got this!” Caspar hollered from the sidelines, rousing Ferdinand from his thoughts.

“Do not be interrupting!” Petra snapped, speaking out of the corner of her mouth facing Caspar. The rest of her face remained static and emotionless, focused wholly on Hubert’s eyes.

Edelgard sat between them, playing referee while holding one of the bottles. Bernadetta, usually introverted, was spectating with bated breath, her eyes excitedly flitting between the contestants.

Caspar was on his feet, bounding up and down with his fists constantly pumping the air. Every eye movement evoked a whoop or a cheer from him, no doubt throwing the participants off their game.

Linhardt, up way past his bedtime, had very little to drink. After the first few shots, he was out like a light.

Flayn was invited, but Seteth had kept a close eye on her all night, preventing her from sneaking out.

Dorothea had drunk the most out of all of them. And now, she was leaning very closely against Ferdinand’s shoulder.

Maybe a little _too_ close.

Ferdinand’s mind flitted from the game to Dorothea’s hair tickling his neck. He tensed up. They had been in contact during the dances, but now she was sprawled everywhere. Her back was supported by the arm he leaned back on, her hand rested on his thigh, her head was cocked and cozied on his collarbone.

Such a display was unlike her. She hated him. She had said so herself.

_So why is she all over me?_

He felt his heart beating faster. A bead of sweat began to roll down his forehead. His breathing became more erratic.

_She’s up to something._ _This must be another one of her games._

He prayed for the goddess for a distraction, a reason to break the embrace. His face went red. The balmy climate of the Greenhouse and the warmth of the alcohol flushed him with heat.

_Aha!_ He thought to himself. _I’ve been given an out!_

He turned his head gently, taking care to not let her head slip from his shoulder.

“Dorothea,” he whispered softly, “it is rather warm here. Perhaps you would be more comfortable leaning against one of pillars? I warrant the cold stone would feel delightful.”

Dorothea let out a muffled giggle into Ferdinand’s collar. “No, Ferdie, I think I’m good _right_ here.” She playfully nuzzled herself closer, shifting almost all of her weight against him.

Ferdinand cursed under his breath, quietly enough that even she couldn’t hear.

He began to sweat even more, as a familiar wave of stress slipped over him. He was being judged. She was testing him. Gauging every word, every breath, every shift and twitch he made against her.

_What am I supposed to do now?_

Hubert blinked.

The rest of the greenhouse (except Linhardt) roared in applause. Dorothea sat up suddenly, startled by the racket.

Ferdinand seized the moment. He swiftly bounded to his feet, joining in on the cheer. Once the commotion died down, he wordlessly started towards the door, praying silently to the Goddess that none would notice his egress.

“And just where are you off to, Ferdinand?” Edelgard asked.

Ferdinand’s heart skipped a beat. He pivoted on his heels to a greenhouse of onlookers.

“I…” he started, desperately searching for an excuse “…need to get a breath of fresh air. It is awfully humid in here, and I’m beginning to feel overheated in these clothes.” He tugged at the sleeves of his suit, gesturing to the many layers he still wore.

“Very well.” Edelgard said. “Be mindful: I expect Seteth to be extra vigilant tonight.”

Ferdinand nodded graciously and turned to the door again.

“Will you be needing company, Ferdie?” Dorothea chirped.

He nervously laughed. “No, not at all. I do not expect to be gone for long.” He didn’t turn back when he said it, but he could feel Dorothea’s frown digging into the back of his head.

He quickly opened and closed the door, careful not to let much of the warm air out. He hastily scampered up the steps beyond the dining hall and searched for a quiet spot in the gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I was really pleased with the response I got to my first fic, so I'm stoked to present this one! I really enjoy the relationship between Ferdinand and Dorothea, and wanted to really explore how tense and stressful it is for both of them. This is my first angsty piece i've ever written, so I hope it hits the spot!


	2. Fractured

Ferdinand did not often stroll the monastery grounds past curfew. He was astounded by how still the night was. No knights shuffling across the cobbled floors, no students playing games across the green, no bells chiming through the air.

Just a stiff, cold breeze. Precisely what he needed.

For the first time tonight, he was given a moment to himself. A moment to stop and think without distraction. A moment to reflect upon her.

He brushed some snow off of a bench and gingerly seated himself, breathing into his hands to give them some warmth. He paused to take in his surroundings.

The hedgerows and grass had been covered by a dusting of snow, freezing whatever flowers had grown there months before. The paths had been cleared and salted daily by the monks and other servants, leaving safe walkways between buildings and gardens.

The Ethereal Moon bathed the entire monastery in a silver light. Although the Blue Sea Star had once again vanished, the rest of the night sky was still dotted with thousands of twinkling stars.

Ferdinand breathed deeply, his breath forming a cloud in front of his face. The sight was relaxing to him. He liked to exhale as hard as he could, trying to get the cloud to blow as far out as possible. For the past few moons he and Caspar had competed to see who could blow their breath out farthest. Despite his stature, Caspar could hold a surprising amount of air within his lungs.

He thought back to the scene he had just abandoned, to Dorothea’s antics. _Will you be needing company?_ rang through his head. She had almost sounded eager, perhaps _genuine_. He had hoped that the ball would help them become closer, but he doubted she would be so forward in wanting to spend time with him after just a few months of being barely friends.

A voice in his mind started plaguing his thoughts.

 _What if it’s just the drink?_ He recalled how she had reached for the liquor, how she had won all the drinking contests. None of the Black Eagles, not even Caspar, had as much experience with alcohol as Dorothea did. _What if she only likes you when she’s not in a sound state of mind?_

He hung his head. His heart throbbed. He let his breath go. It almost reached his feet.

He reached within his jacket pocket, the only one that had a button, and undid it. He produced from within a silver locket. The chain jingled as he held it, the snow muffling its echoes as it pierced the silence.

He cringed, looking at it. How foolish he was, to think about offering it to her tonight. Weeks ago, he had dreamt of a rendezvous at the Goddess Tower with her. A fairytale romance. Now it felt immature to imagine.

He undid the locket clasp. Within was a portrait of him, and of her, and a small ring. Tied around the ring in a red ribbon was a note.

_‘Will you bee mine?’_

He grimaced as he reread it, feeling physically ill. When he wrote it last moon, it seemed the perfect thing to say. He tore through many sheets of paper practicing his calligraphy so that the words would be unmistakably perfect.

The ring was a masterpiece in its own right. Early on in the year, the Professor had recommended Ferdinand take up smithing to pursue his interest in armaments. Over the past few moons, he had become quite adept, and had learned to cast jewelry.

Before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, Ferdinand had presented Dorothea with a basket of handmade treats. He recalled how impressed she had been upon learning that he had made them from scratch, expressing her shock that he would genuinely labor that hard for what amounted to a gift.

The smile she gave him upon that realization was scorched into his mind. In that moment, he felt he could take flight.

Last moon, he made his plans for proposal. He wanted to make her a ring, in the same fashion as the treats. A testament to his dedication, something only she could understand. Something only _they_ could understand.

But he didn’t understand her. He had never even come close to getting her to just be _honest_ with him.

He was in love with a fraud.

“Ferdie?” a voice called from the edge of the garden, startling Ferdinand from his thoughts. He quickly snapped the locket shut and pocketed it away, awkwardly staggering to his feet while fiddling with the button. He pivoted to face the noise, slipping on some ice obscured by the snow.

Dorothea was at the entrance to the plaza. She seemed surprised to see him.

“Dorothea!” Ferdinand mumbled with shock. Flustered and flushed, he stood rigid, his jaw agape. After a moment, he recovered his composure.

“Dorothea, it’s freezing out here! What’s gotten into you? Come now, you really should head back to…”

He was cut off by her scowl. Her brow had furrowed. Her emerald eyes began to seethe.

“What are you doing _here?!_ ” she hissed.

Ferdinand was stunned, taken aback. He cocked his head in a silent question.

She advanced, stumbling every other step. “First, you _abandon_ me in front of everyone. Me! Your date!” she made it to him and dug a finger into his chest, poking him with enough force to make him slip backwards.

“Then, I got to thinking, perhaps he went up ahead of me to the Goddess Tower!” she flung her hands up in the air, frustrated.

“And _now_ , I find you here! All alone, hiding away from _me._ ” She spat.

Ferdinand had a frog in his throat. He could not speak. He felt a sense of vertigo overcome him, his gut sinking into his legs as if he were in free fall.

She was playing another game with him. But this time, it wasn’t a battle. It was a war.

And Ferdinand had been dealt a losing hand.

He looked her up and down. She was fuming. He could not tell where the inebriation ended and the sobriety began. In this state, any step he takes is a misplay. Any action, no matter how calculated, will result in her fury.

Ferdinand steeled himself. He let out another shaky breath.

 _I must not break_.

“I did not mean to offend.” He said, raising his hands up in an apologetic gesture. Measuring his words carefully, he continued “The greenhouse was hot, and I merely desired to cool down.”

“Save your excuses, Ferdinand.” He winced. She had never called him by his proper name. She venomously enunciated every syllable. “You were never a good liar, and you’ll not make a fool out of me again. Not now, not _ever._ ”

Her voice dropped to a threatening growl. Ferdinand needed another out. Another act of the Goddess to break him of this encounter.

But as he stared into her eyes, the reality of the situation struck him.

For the first time in his life, Ferdinand von Aegir faced defeat.

His first desire was to lash out. He wanted to scream. To rage. To rally against the unfairness of it all. To fight back against her tricks and traps. To hurt her just as she was hurting him.

But he also stared into the face of betrayal. Of confusion. Of fear.

The face of Dorothea.

In that moment, he found his resolve. She would not suffer by his will. She had faced enough anguish in her life for him to cause her any more. He would surrender this war now, regardless of the cost, if only to leave her unscathed.

With newfound determination, he straightened his back and regained his confidence.

 _I will not break_.

“Come now, Dorothea.” He said firmly. “This is neither the time nor the place to be having this discussion.” He began to take of his jacket, mindful to make sure that the innermost pocket was buttoned. He offered the coat to her, along with one of his arms. “Please, allow me to escort you back to your dorm.”

She swatted away his coat, stating defensively “You won’t be taking me anywhere!” She pointed a finger at him, daring him to try.

“I’m afraid I must insist. It would be unbecoming of me to let a lady shiver.” He maneuvered around her, resting his jacket on her shoulders.

As he stepped by, Dorothea dug her heels into the snow and shoved Ferdinand away. His loose footing, coupled with the icy ground, made him fall.

His back connected with the bench on the way down, and he felt the air rush out of his lungs with a sickening _crack_.

Dazed, reeling, Ferdinand stumbled to his knees in a panic. He saw a drop of red fall from his mouth, staining the snow a dark crimson in the moonlight.

“How _dare_ you!” Dorothea snarled. “And to think you’d lay hands on me, after all those talks about how _noble_ you are.”

Ferdinand faced away. He needed to get away. He needed to get help. He scrambled towards the cathedral, clutching his side, gasping for breath.

“I know exactly what you are, _Ferdie!”_ he could her stumbling over her words through whine of the wind. “You’re just like the rest of them! You’re all jackals, vultures, _liars!_ ”

He did not turn back. He clutched his side and gagged, desperately searching for respite. For relief. For breath.

Something had broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most captivating thing about Ferdithea, in my opinion, is how "on" Ferdinand has to be the entire time just to maintain it. To me, the lengths he goes to to impress and not offend speak volumes of his character.
> 
> Even though the pressure is all on Ferdinand to stay in Dorothea's good graces, I wanted to see how far Dorothea could push poor Ferdie before he snapped. My boy Ferdie really doesn't deserve it though :(


	3. Mended

Manuela snuffed out the candle in the infirmary. She gulped down the last of the herbal remedy she had prepared earlier. She was prepared for drinking tonight.

She always drank the night of the ball. She had done so without fail for the past 6 years. She had to, if only to avoid the embarrassment that came from each of her dancing partners abandoning her in turn.

If she didn’t know better, she’d think there to be a conspiracy against her. The way each suitor excused themselves faster than the one prior. The first would dance for a whole song, the next would swap partners in the middle, and the latter ones would flee after the first few measures.

She’d spent most of her evening bothering Hanneman, performing scandalous acts near him to try and elicit a reaction. She enjoyed the attention, but it made her feel desperate. And lonesome.

She snuck away early to the Goddess Tower, as she had done every year. She would always catch young students embracing under the night sky, but she never found such luck.

She let out a frustrated sigh as she lied down.

 _Oh well_ , _here’s hoping that next year will be different…_

She closed her eyes, and felt her body relax as she began to drift away to sleep.

**BANG BANG**

Manuela startled awake. Someone was at the door of the infirmary.

She grumpily shouted back “If you wanted to spend the night with me, you should have asked earlier! You’re too late now, so do us both a favor and buzz off!”

Her response was more knocking, a bit less harsh this time. She heard a wheeze, and a faint voice inaudibly calling out.

She stood up, threw on something to make her at least presentable, and angrily stomped towards the door. She flung it open, prepared to confront the unwelcome visitor. But she didn’t see anyone. After a double take, she heard the wheeze again. She looked down upon a slumped figure.

“Ferdinand!” she gasped. “To what do I owe the…”

She trailed off as she took the sight in. He was clutching his side, leaning on another, and looking up at her as blood dripped from his mouth. He mouthed to her, breathlessly: “Help.”

Manuela sobered up. She helped him into a bed, taking note of when he grimaced. The diagnosis came after she laid him in a bed and saw how he favored one side. He had a fractured rib.

She had dealt with her fair share of broken bones; novice knights would often suffer them after falling from the saddle, and the occasional student would get overzealous in a sparring match. Ribs, thankfully, were an easy fix. Her hands began to shine and the room came alive with the warm light and soothing hums of white magic.

She placed it gently at Ferdinand’s side, and he looked visibly relieved. “Thank you.” He managed to utter.

As her immediate worries faded, they were replaced by curiosity. She began her interrogation with a blunt “What happened to you?”. Realizing her curtness, she followed up with “I would imagine a handsome young man like yourself wouldn’t get into such trouble on the night of the ball.”

Ferdinand briefly chuckled, before wincing in discomfort. Steadying himself, he responded. “I assure you; I had no intention of my night unfolding in this manner.”

Manuela smirked. “I understand all too well.” She got comfortable in her chair. Bones required some time to knit, so she’d likely have to hold the spell for a while. Wanting to fill the silence, she shot Ferdinand a playful grin. “Troubles with love?” she jested.

Ferdinand looked away and muttered “If you can call it that…”

Manuela giggled. “How intriguing. And who is the lucky lady that has Ferdinand von Aegir sulking?”

Ferdinand flatly responded “I would have thought you already in the know. She is someone you are well acquainted with.”

Manuela racked her brain for a moment. She concluded he could be referring to none other than Dorothea.

She did another double take.

Manuela knew Dorothea to be able to defend herself. She and her had both faced kidnappings and assaults in their days with the opera. Manuela knew that Dorothea had snapped wrists and legs of would-be attackers.

For Ferdinand to have elicited that response from her, he would have had to do something terrible.

She stopped the spell. She could feel a defensive angry creeping up her body.

Ferdinand grimaced in pain; his relief abruptly cut off.

“What did you do to her?!” Manuela demanded.

“Nothing!” Ferdinand retched, writhing in discomfort. “I never laid a hand on her.”

Manuela’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me the truth, all of it. I want to know _exactly_ what happened.

Ferdinand gasped, winded. “Please!” he begged. “On my honor, I insist I never hurt her!”

Manuela wanted to strike him. But his tone, the desperate look in his eyes, swayed her.

_Could he be telling the truth?_

She pondered for a moment. All the times she had interacted with Ferdinand, or witnessed him talking to his peers, she had never seen anything malicious. He was polite, courteous, and above all quite the gentleman. She doubted he could ever speak ill of a lady, let alone treat one poorly.

She gave him the benefit of the doubt and began casting the spell again. She was, after all, a physician. It was below her to abandon her duty over something so petty. Ferdinand no longer writhed, but he remained shaken.

“Go on then, honey.” She said expectantly. “Explain how this happened.”

Ferdinand took as deep a breath as he could given his injuries, and began with “Just after the ball, myself and my classmates headed to…” he paused briefly, “…we met somewhere to, uh, celebrate the night…”

“You went to the Greenhouse, didn’t you?” Manuela pried.

Ferdinand blushed. “Ah, so you know about that…”

She laughed. “I’ve caught several students drinking there over the years.” With a wink, she said “And I’m in no position to report such behavior to Seteth…”

Ferdinand smiled, conscious not to laugh. “That is a relief. Anyways, I abstained from the drinking, preferring to partake simply of the camaraderie…”

“You don’t drink?”

Ferdinand looked up, interrupted. “Not often.”

Manuela chuckled. “You’ll break that habit soon enough. Trust me, you’ll grow into it.”

Ferdinand dismissively continued “Dorothea, however, had… uhm…” he spoke softly “…a lot. To drink, that is.”

Manuela frowned. She looked over at the empty flask on the shelf.

_Perhaps I should be a better role model…_

Ferdinand continued, distracted from the pain. “At first it was no issue; the rest of the class was rather impressed by her constitution. But as the night dragged on, she became a bit… physical.” He strained over the last word.

Manuela looked horrified. “What on earth do you mean? Did she… Are you hurt elsewhere?”

Ferdinand stuttered “N…not like that!” He raised his hands up halfway but halted the gesture with an uncomfortable grunt. “I did not mean that she was aggressive, or belligerent. Rather, she was just… forward.” He took a moment to deliberate over the final word.

Manuela settled back down.

“Regardless, I excused myself from the situation and distanced myself from her. Her affections left me…” he stumbled over his words again. Whatever he was thinking was not coming out naturally.

“Confused?” Manuela suggested.

He sighed. “I suppose so.”

Manuela laughed. “My my, I thought you would have more experience with women.”

Ferdinand looked back, aghast. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a handsome young nobleman. Usually, men like you have plenty of _encounters_ by this age.” She said salaciously. “Have you never…?”

Ferdinand took a moment to respond. “… ever what? Kissed someone?”

Manuela laughed. “Not what I was going for, but sure.”

“Never!” Ferdinand stated indignantly.

Manuela was taken aback and a bit overjoyed at his innocence. After a brief chuckle, she regained her composure. “I’m sorry, I do get ahead of myself sometimes. Such questions are improper for someone in my position.” She stopped. She had never really cared about being proper before. _Goddess, I sound like Hanneman right now…_

“…Anyways,” Ferdinand resumed his story, embarrassed. “I excused myself from the situation and found a nice space in the gardens to recover myself.” He straightened himself up. “A lot has happened over the past few moons and I needed a moment to reflect upon my…” he stopped short.

A look of terror formed on his face. He went pale, and he shot up straight. “My jacket! Oh Goddess, I’ve left my jacket with her!” He began to rise before Manuela stopped him.

“Hold your horses, darling. The jacket’s not going to run away overnight, no need to strain yourself further by going after it.”

“You don’t understand!” Ferdinand barked. “If she finds it, I’ll be…”

“Finds what?”

Ferdinand stopped. He was trembling. He’d revealed too much. After a moment, he visibly deflated.

After a short pause of silence, he mumbled “The ring…”

Manuela gasped. “Oh, Ferdinand…”

“I know!” Ferdinand cut her off. “It was a terrible mistake and I need to retrieve it now before…”

“That’s so…” Manuela trailed off. She had for years witnessed the miracle romances that occurred this night but none had affected her such. She began to cry.

Ferdinand looked at her. “I am sorry,” he began “I did not mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset!” Manuela retorted with a smile. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I just think it’s very… romantic.”

Ferdinand deflated again. “Were it that way…”

“Wait,” Manuela paused. “Did she…”

“No, I never asked. I never had the opportunity, and even if it presented itself I do not think I would take it.”

“How come?” Manuela was visibly confused. Her eyeliner began to run.

Ferdinand remained silent.

Manuela noted his muteness. She continued her spell. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Ferdinand bit his lip and looked down, ashamed. “Perhaps… Perhaps you are the only person I could talk about it with.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You know her better than anyone else. The real her, I mean.”

Manuela leaned back. “I know you said earlier that you don’t drink, but… would you like something?”

Ferdinand was taken aback.

“It’ll make explaining things easier.” Manuela explained. “Trust me. It will also help ease the pain.” She gestured to his wound.

“Very well. What’s the strongest drink you possess?”

Manuela laughed. “That’s too strong for you, honey. Here, give me just a moment.”

She released her hold on the spell and quickly went to her shelf, fixing Ferdinand a shot of liquor and a glass of wine for herself.

Ferdinand eagerly took the shot, and after a brief toast downed it in one gulp. He broke out into a coughing fit.

Manuela giggled. “I thought you said you didn’t drink, yet here I find you taking shots better than a sailor.” She sipped at her wine. “Would you like another, or would you rather tell me about this _ring._ ”

Ferdinand held up a finger, gesturing for a pause, before stating “I might need another before I begin…”

After a few more drinks, Ferdinand finally felt comfortable enough to open up.

“…the professor gave me the idea to get into metalworking, and after the sweets I decided to make the ring by my own hands too.” By now, Ferdinand was so numbed by the drink and distracted by the confession that the pain no longer bothered him.

Manuela was now comfortable lounging across the other bed, listening intently and occasionally sipping at her wine.

“The hardest part was getting the measurements of her fingers without revealing my intent.” Ferdinand smiled. “I had to ask Petra to do it discretely, to visit the jeweler in town on a weekend shopping trip with her. She’s probably the only one in Fódlan to not understand the significance of a ring.”

Manuela smirked. “You could have asked me. Dorothea wouldn’t have suspected a thing from you if I asked her to shop for rings with me.”

Ferdinand laughed. “Forgive me for this, but I had feared you would not be able to contain your excitement.”

Manuela shot him a playful glare. “Do you think me a gossip, Ferdinand?”

“I shall decline to answer that.” He retorted confidently.

“Clever man. You remember that line.” She commended him, and then with a wave proceeded. “Go on then, you got her measurements and then what?”

Ferdinand resumed “The next step was selecting a material. I haven’t the skill to adorn my jewelry with gemstones yet, so I was restricted to working with naught but a single material.” He beamed with pride as he said, “I wanted to select something unique, to make the ring stand out even without a jewel.”

Manuela leaned in, captivated.

With a dramatic pause, Ferdinand revealed “I settled on _rose gold_ , an alloy of copper and gold.” Manuela was familiar with the metal. “I figured, what with her affixation on that flower, that she would appreciate the double entendre.”

Manuela gleefully cheered. “How sweet!” she encouraged. She inwardly remarked about Ferdinand’s lack of nuance.

“I am flattered that you think so!” He said with a smile. It faded slowly. “I had wished to present it to her tonight.” His expression went flat.

Manuela bit her tongue. She would not pry further.

Ferdinand was willing to reveal a trifle more. “She followed me from the greenhouse. She almost saw it… the ring, I mean. I had it stored within a locket in one of my jacket pockets.”

Ferdinand looked down again. “She was furious with me, enough that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I tried to bring her back to somewhere warm; the greenhouse, the ballroom, perhaps her dorm. But when I approached her, she cast me aside.”

He took a deep breath. “A bench in the gardens broke my fall. I do not think the injury was intentional. At least, I hope it wasn’t…” he trailed off.

Ferdinand went quiet. Manuela had heard enough.

“Come on, Ferdinand, it’s late. You’re in good enough condition to spend the night in your dorm, but I think there’d be a scandal if I escorted you there.” She opened the door, crossed the hall, and knocked on Hanneman’s door.

After a bit of shuffling, Hanneman opened the door. “What is the meaning of…?”

“Quiet down. Ferdinand here is hurt and needs to be brought back to his dorm. Would you mind keeping an eye on him on his way back?” her tone indicated that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer

Hanneman furled his brow. “Alright, I suppose I can.”

Manuela smiled, and gave him a peck on the cheek along with a “Thanks, honey.”

Ferdinand bade goodnight to Manuela and followed down the hall after a thoroughly blushing Hanneman.

“Young man,” Hanneman addressed him. “That woman is trouble. I advise you stay away from her when possible.”

As they made it to the stairs, Hanneman halted at the top. He visibly sniffed, his mustache furling as he did, and looked at Ferdinand with disappointment. In an indignant whisper, he asked.

“You haven’t been _drinking_ with her, have you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Manuela is just such a fun character. I had a blast trying to understand and write from her perspective. I felt swept up in her mood swings, laughing at her pet names and inappropriate nature. I also felt like she's the only person who Ferdie could really, *really* vent to.


	4. Confused

A splitting headache greeted Dorothea when she woke. She opened her eyes slowly but shut them quickly to shelter them from the sunlight pouring into her room. The birds chirping outside her window were unbearable, their songs a piercing din that sent waves of irritation through her mind.

She was very, very hungover.

Making sure to keep her eyes closed, she stumbled out of bed and fumbled around her room. She kept a glass of water near her bed most nights, but she couldn’t find it by blindly groping around.

She tested her weight on her legs. They were unsteady, but they would hold. She stood as tall as she could.

With a deep breath, she prepared to face the music.

She opened her eyes. The room was bright, but she needed to look at it to get her bearings.

Her head throbbed with each heartbeat. With difficulty, she wobbled over to the shelf near the window. The cacophonous birdsongs grew louder and louder.

She squinted, focusing her vision on the vague cup-like shape on her dresser. She lunged for it, a brief splash confirming that she had something to drink.

She downed it all in one go, having to slow down after the first couple of gulps to give herself time to breathe.

Sitting back down, she noticed a dark shape draped over one of the legs of her bed. She stared at it, trying to decipher what it was. She touched it. The fabric was nice, well made, fancy stuff. It was a suit jacket.

_How did that get here? And whose is it?_

She picked it up and began to search it before she picked up a familiar scent. She stopped and gave the jacket a sniff. Cologne, and a nice one at that. A hint of tea leaves, a fruity blend? And a little something else…

She looked back to her bed, looking to see if the jacket’s owner was still here.

Nobody. She was alone. Except for those damned birds.

They kept chirping, louder now. Dorothea struggled to piece things together.

_Whose jacket is this? Why are birds chirping in the winter? How much did I drink last night?_

_What happened?_

She wracked her mind, desperate for any recollection.

_Seteth made an announcement, concluding the ball. Hilda slipped Edelgard some bottles of… something. We were at the greenhouse…_

Her head throbbed again. Dorothea winced in pain.

_How does Manuela teach like this?_

Dorothea recalled Manuela mentioning some sort of hangover cure, an herbal remedy of sorts. Hopefully she still had some in store.

Dorothea left the jacket behind, made herself presentable, threw on a doublet and marched out the door. A cold draft flooded her dorm as she trudged through the snow towards the infirmary.

Dorothea made it to Manuela’s room, struggling to keep her eyes open against the brilliant white of the snow. She approached the door of the infirmary, making certain to knock firmly enough to wake Manuela.

She heard her groggily rousing, as well as a sing-song “Give me a minute!” muffled by the door.

Manuela opened the door looking disheveled, as she always did at this hour. Dorothea noticed her expression morph from a grumpy irritation to something else, before finally setting upon a friendly smile.

“Dorothea, what has you knocking at my door this early? Don’t you know what time it is?”

Dorothea blushed. With a cheeky grin, she said “Believe me, I know you’re not a morning person.” She abandoned the grin for a more serious tone. “But I need your help.”

Manuela sobered up; her face concerned. “What with, dearie?”

“Well, I had a bit _too_ much to drink last night.”

“You don’t say.” Manuela thoughtlessly uttered. She caught her words too late.

Dorothea, stung, retorted: “That’s rich, coming from you.”

A brief pause. Manuela sized up Dorothea. Dorothea maintained a poker face, resisting the smile creeping at the corners of her mouth.

Manuela broke first, pursing her lips in a vain attempt to stifle a giggle. The sight made Dorothea chuckle. Within moments, both were sharing a hearty laugh.

Hanneman’s door flew open. He stuck his head into the hall. “Do you ladies have any notion of decency in the mornings? People are trying to sleep!”

Manuela rolled her eyes. “What are you gonna do, give us a seminar about early morning etiquette?”

Hanneman ruffled his moustache and closed his door, mumbling under his breath.

Manuela, victorious, looked back at Dorothea. “Come in, honey, let’s get you that antidote.”

Dorothea sat down. She noticed something. The same scent from before, the one on the jacket, was present in this room as well. _Curious_.

“Let me heat this up for a touch, dear. It goes down better when warm.” Manuela stated.

Dorothea’s attention turned to the drink that Manuela was preparing. “What exactly is in that?”

“Not much. Milk, chocolate, and an herb known as snape grass.” She pulled out a pestle and mortar and began grinding a chocolate bar into powder.

After a few minutes, the concoction was prepared. Manuela poured it into a teacup and Dorothea eagerly sipped at it, each taste slowly relieving her headache.

As she sipped, Manuela sat down next to her.

“Dorothea, dear,” she said sternly, “you’re far too young to be following in my footsteps.”

Dorothea laughed and playfully glanced at her. “It was only this one night, I swear.”

Manuela met her gaze. “I’m not talking about the drinking.”

Dorothea took a moment to register the comment. Her eyes went wide.

“What… what are you saying?” she stammered.

Manuela raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t remember?”

Dorothea’s stomach lurched. Her vision went blurry. Shakily, she asked “Remember _what_?”

Manuela saw Dorothea tensing up and hugged her in a motherly embrace. Dorothea heaved a sob, a sudden and ugly sound.

“There there, honey, you’re alright.” Manuela cooed reassuringly. Dorothea continued shaking.

“Please, Manuela, tell me _what happened._ ” Dorothea choked out.

Manuela said calmly, yet firmly “I couldn’t tell you. Not really. It’d be best if you asked _him._ ”

Before Dorothea could inquire further, Manuela continued. “And, fair word of warning, dear: He won’t be happy to see you. _But_ , he’s a real gentleman, and if you insist, he’ll agree to speak with you.”

Dorothea, puzzled, tried to decipher the mystery man behind her evening. Now lucid, her memory jogged and pieced together all of her evidence.

_The jacket._

_The scent._

_“He’s a real gentleman”_

It clicked.

_Ferdie._

Dorothea almost hurled. She was breathless. Something had happened between her and Ferdinand. She didn’t know what, or _how_ , but something happened.

She began to cry. She was didn’t know if she was confused, or scared, or outraged. She was feeling _something_ but she couldn’t put a pin on what.

Dorothea didn’t want to confront him. She wanted to hear it from Manuela. From someone she could _trust_.

Manuela hugged her tightly as Dorothea bawled into her shoulder.

“Am… am I…” Dorothea sputtered out between sobs “will I be okay?”

Manuela continued to comfort her. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll be fine. You _are_ fine. There’s nothing wrong. You two just need to talk.”

“Is he upset with me? Angry?”

Manuela laughed. “He wouldn’t dare. That boy doesn’t have the guts to bear a grudge, especially not against you.”

“Does he have a reason to?”

Manuela shushed her. Avoiding her question, she whispered into Dorothea’s hair, “If you’re truly concerned with how he’ll react, just bring him some tea. It’ll cheer him right up.”

Dorothea downed the rest of the hangover cure slowly, regaining her composure through every sip. Now finished, she looked over at Manuela. “Thank you for everything, Manuela. Really.”

“Anything for my sweet little songstress.” Manuela winked.

“I should probably be off now.” Dorothea uttered hesitantly. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay here, where it was cozy, where it was safe.

“That would be best.” Manuela agreed. She gave her an encouraging pat on the cheek.

Dorothea sat up and stiffly made her way out the door and to the stairs. She steeled herself for the conversation to come.

Manuela stuck her head out after her and chirped out “Oh, one more thing dear: Be sure to give him his jacket back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a doozy for me. It was tricky for me to write a sober Manuela, genuinely trying to offer good advice to both Ferdinand and Dorothea, despite being severely underqualified to do so.


	5. Confronted

Dorothea skirted across the snow-covered monastery grounds; a set of tasks laid out before her.

First, back at her room, she grabbed Ferdinand’s jacket and her purse. Next, she stopped by the dining hall and asked for them to put a kettle on. Then, she made off to the market stalls. Thankfully, the eastern merchant had set up shop early, and still had some of the Southern Fruit blend in stock.

Dorothea had heard Ferdinand ramble for hours about how fond he was of that stuff. She laughed inwardly, reflecting on how the hours she spent pointlessly chatting with him provided something _useful_ for once.

Tea leaves in hand and jacket over her shoulder, she made her way back to the dining hall, and assembled her warm kettle of water and a few cups and saucers on a tray. Then, she set out for the second-floor dormitories.

Her confidence wavered as she approached the snow-covered ramp leading down. She dared not take the stairs to the fishing pier, but the ramp approach offered little more safe footing. It was too wide for the monks to salt or clear all of it.

She gingerly and cautiously advanced down the ramp, slipping slightly after a few steps.

The porcelain on her tea tray clattered as she caught her footing. She was still standing, if only just. One of her legs was shot out way too far forward for her to comfortably take another step. She swore under her breath.

A door opened at the end of the ramp. Mercedes emerged from her room.

“Oh my!” She uttered, taking in the sight of a struggling Dorothea. “Wait right there, I’ll be over to help in a second!”

Dorothea flushed, embarrassed. “No, really, it’s fine! I’m okay!”

“You most certainly are not!” Mercedes insisted, deftly trudging through the snow up the ramp. “Let me take some of this off your hands.”

Dorothea begrudgingly offered her the tray. She was grateful for the assistance, but ashamed to be followed. Mercedes took the kettle and the teacups off, leaving a few saucers and napkins on the tray.

“There, the most top-heavy items are secure.” Mercedes stated proudly.

Dorothea regained her footing. Mercedes, ever steady, looked at her expectantly. “Where are we off to?”

“We’re not going far, just up to the second-floor dorms.” Dorothea started off. Mercedes cradled the teacups and followed.

“Ooh, I love that blend!” Mercedes commented.

Dorothea maintained the small talk. “You do?”

“Indeed! Southern Fruit Blend. It’s truly unmistakable. I used to drink it all the time back when… well, before I moved to Faerghus.”

Mercedes trailed off in her thought. Dorothea didn’t pry further.

They made it to the stairs. The second-floor dorms were quiet. The rattling of the tea tray and the ladies’ footsteps upon wood echoed through the hall.

Dorothea felt Mercedes looking at her as they passed by Edelgard’s room. Then Hubert’s. Then Caspar’s. Finally, they stopped outside of Ferdinand’s room.

Dorothea turned around. Mercedes glanced towards the door, back at Dorothea, and then gave her a knowing grin. She arranged the kettle and the teacups neatly on the tray and excused herself.

Dorothea was caught in one more predicament. “Umm” she quietly asked. Mercedes stopped and turned. “Could you, uhm, knock for me?” Dorothea softly pleaded.

Mercedes giggled bashfully and wordlessly knocked before scurrying away.

A muffled voice came from within. “Who is it?”

Dorothea was at a loss for words. “It’s, uh, me. It’s just me, Ferdie…”

A brief pause. She could hear him shuffle within.

“I do not wish to speak with you at this time.” he curtly replied.

Dorothea leaned in towards the crack of the door. She whispered into it “Please, Ferdie. I brought your jacket back.”

She heard a more violent shuffle, followed by a thud, a grunt, and a scowl, in that order. After a few moments, he opened the door slightly. Enough that his face was visible, but half of his body was obscured.

He was still wearing the suit from last night, and Dorothea swore she could see some red stains near the neck of his undershirt. He looked her up and down.

“May I… come in?” Dorothea hesitated. “I brought you some tea.” She quickly added.

Ferdinand bit the inside of his lip, pausing for a moment to think before slowly opening the door for her.

“You may set that on the desk.” He offered. As she went by, she noticed his left hand guarding his flank. His right hand snatched the jacket off of her shoulder as she passed.

She heard him vigorously examining the jacket as she placed the tray down. She turned to see him searching and feeling it up. He turned to her, and with a concerned tone asked, “You didn’t look inside any of the pockets, did you?”

“No.” Dorothea admitted.

“That is a relief.” Ferdinand sighed. With a shaky exhale, he tossed the jacket to the far end of the bed.

“…why?” Dorothea queried.

“Nothing! No reason!” Ferdinand hastily dismissed it. He changed the subject. “Please, uh, seat yourself.” He moved to close the door.

Dorothea watched as he left it ajar. She scowled. _Of course he’d leave it cracked._ She commended his propriety but cursed the lack of privacy.

Ferdinand moved to sit on the edge of his bed. She noticed his movements were cautious, delicate. She noticed his discomfort as he walked, and his grimace as he came to rest.

“Are you okay, Ferdie?” she inquired.

“Yes! Certainly! I am quite alright.” He dismissed her again.

Something was up. Dorothea had seen Ferdinand embarrassed before, but she had never heard him speak in such a terse manner.

He was tense, too. He was not relaxed on the edge of his bed. He sat up straight and uptight, as if ready to jump on a moment’s notice.

He wasn’t meeting her gaze either. His eyes ventured to every other sight in the room except her. They avoided her, preferring any distraction. She recalled her earlier conversation.

_He won’t be happy to see you._

Dorothea didn’t know how to break the ice. Dealing with Ferdinand was usually a reactionary endeavor. She had never needed to be proactive in conversing with him.

_Just bring him some tea. It’ll cheer him right up_

It was worth a shot.

“Would you like some tea?” she offered. “I think I got the blend you like, the fruit one.” She feigned ignorance, hoping he’d take the bait.

“Ah, that would be lovely. I would be grateful for a cup.” He said. The words sounded strained. Forced.

Dorothea shivered. Ferdinand von Aegir wanted to decline her tea. His _favorite_ tea.

She anxiously added the leaves to the pot, letting it steep for a minute before pouring. He didn’t say a word as she did so.

She offered him his cup. He took it with a nod and sipped. She caught a glance of a fleeting smile on his face that was swiftly replaced by a frown.

“Thank you.” He said dryly.

They sat in silence for another minute. Dorothea could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

_Why wont he say something? Anything!_

With a nervous breath, she spoke again. “Ferdie, I know something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but I know something… happened.”

Ferdinand hung his head.

“I spoke with Manuela earlier.” She said.

He sharply inhaled, and locked eyes with her.

She wished he hadn’t. His gaze was forlorn, uncertain, _scared_.

She gulped. “She… didn’t tell me much. But she said we needed to talk.”

Ferdinand dropped his gaze again and exhaled heavily. He bit his lip again.

She continued. “I admit, embarrassing as it is, that I can’t quite remember what happened last night.” She laughed nervously. “Nothing _too_ bad, I hope?” The last words betrayed a bit too much of her concern.

He held his breath. He refused to move.

Dorothea couldn’t bear it anymore. She had never seen him so concerned, so tense.

She held her breath. They fought another battle, one to see who could remain silent the longest.

Dorothea broke. “Ferdie, _please_. _Talk to me!_ ” she begged.

He closed his eyes. She saw his face scrunch up as his breathing intensified.

“ _What happened?_ ” she sobbed.

Her cry evoked a response. He looked up at her, with a new expression plastered on his face. Worry. _For her_.

He looked her once over again, before again turning away. He finally spoke.

“I shall decline to answer that.” He stated. It sounded rehearsed. Sensing her dissatisfaction, he justified his stance. “You will not want to hear it.”

“ _Damnit, Ferdie!_ ” she exclaimed, bounding to her feet. She sloshed tea all over, clutching the cup in a death grip.

He moved his left arm up, in some reaction towards her, and she saw him gasp in pain.

Her rage subsided. Her eyes settled at his side. “Ferdie… are you…?”

He caught his breath. “It is nothing!” he exclaimed. “I have had far worse; this is but a trifle…”

She kneeled towards him. “Let me help, please…”

He cut her off, both physically and verbally. He interposed his arm between them and firmly barked “No, I believe you’ve done _enough_.”

“But I haven’t done…”

She stopped. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized his meaning. She gasped, or at least tried to, but found no air to suck in.

“Ferdie, you’re not saying…” she choked over her words. “Did _I_ … Was this…”

He maintained his gaze and his silence, indirectly giving her an answer.

Dorothea sobbed. And gasped. And retched. And heaved.

All at once.

She was overwhelmed. She had hurt him. Badly. She had always acted his better, confident in knowing that he had _no right_ to _ever_ feel contempt for her. She could lord it over him all she pleased, knowing that _he_ slighted _her_ and she’d never done a thing to him.

But now she had assaulted him, wounded him. Why? How could she do that? She wouldn’t dare lash out like that unless…

Another wave of discomfort. Of fear. _Would Ferdinand do that? To me?_

She dismissed the thought. Violently. _He would never. Not him._ She needed to keep faith that a nobleman like he claimed to be _could_ exist, for her sake.

_He’s a real gentleman._

Another wave. Another emotion. Something she had only felt when side stage listening to an opera. _Remorse._

“I think it best for you to leave.” Ferdinand hesitantly suggested, interrupting her thoughts.

Dorothea came to, facing him. His eyes were closed, his head was bowed. His arms folded at his sides.

She stood, heeding his advice, stumbling towards the door and pulling it open, tears streaming down her face.

She stopped at the threshold, turning to face him.

“Ferdie…” she sniffled. His head remained bowed. “I’m so sorry.” she confessed, before retreating down the hall and out the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was a doozy. This chapter was *the* doozy.
> 
> I wanted to let it all out, open the floodgates and unleash an unbridled torrent of emotion. But I felt it best for their characters to remain closed and guarded against each other, at least for now. They're not mature enough to truly confront each other. There's a reason their A-support is time locked.


	6. Wounded

Edelgard heard the sobbing. The commotion had woken her up, and she suspected it roused many of the other students as well. She had been listening at her door for a while. She heard the creaking of a hinge, and the stomping of feet down the hall.

She stuck her head out just in time to see Dorothea running down the stairs in tears.

She also saw a pair of pink pigtails spectating the scene as well. Hilda turned to face down the hall, to the room where Dorothea had emerged from.

Both girls made eye contact. Caught eavesdropping, Hilda meekly said “Oops” and withdrew back to her room.

Edelgard looked right. Ferdinand’s door was wide open.

She made her way towards it. Whatever just happened was ugly.

Dorothea had come back to the greenhouse last night ranting about some sleight Ferdinand had committed against her. She was incoherent, drunk with rage. And now Ferdinand was antagonizing her again.

Edelgard was going to put a stop to this.

She advanced down the hall. Caspar’s door creaked open, and he half stepped out before Edelgard blocked him.

“No. Stay.” She commanded. “And _don’t_ listen.” Caspar wordlessly complied, giving an ok-sign as he closed his door.

“That goes for you too, Hubert.” Edelgard barked over her shoulder.

“…as you wish.” He replied from behind his door.

She stepped into the threshold of Ferdinand’s room. His head hung low. A cooling kettle of tea sat on his desk, and some dark liquid stained the floor near it.

“Ferdinand…”

“Not now.” He growled. “Not _you._ ”

Edelgard was having none of it. She stepped in and slammed the door shut behind her.

“You’re going to explain to me exactly what’s going on,” she demanded, turning to face him “and you’re going to cease _whatever_ this is.”

“And if I don’t?” Ferdinand looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot.

“This isn’t a request.” She stated. “Whatever your quarrel with her, it needs to end now. This can’t be good for you, or her.”

Ferdinand scoffed, challenging her. “Since when have you cared for my well-being?”

Edelgard was taken aback, offended at his remark. “I have always… Ferdinand, all because you’re a _royal pain_ doesn’t mean that I don’t…” She was at a loss. “You’re my friend. You’re _our_ friend.”

He rolled his eyes.

Now Edelgard was furious. “You’re also my ally, and my vassal. I would be a terrible leader, of either a nation, army, or class, if I didn’t watch out for the well-being of my subordinates.”

“ _Would be?_ ” Ferdinand snapped back.

He looked up, gauging her reaction. She forcefully grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him close. He grunted in discomfort.

“What has gotten into you, Ferdinand?” she questioned, seething. “You should be ashamed of yourself! This _behavior_ is pathetic!”

“ ** _And what else can I do?_** ” Ferdinand screamed. He grimaced. He cringed. He shriveled, clutching his side. Edelgard saw tears begin to form in his eyes.

She released him. He fell back on the bed, his hands forming tight, shaking fists.

After a deep breath, his fists unclenched, and he splayed and stretched his fingers out. With a defeated sob, he repeated “ _What else can I do?_ ”

She had never seen him so deflated. Moons ago, she had wished to see Ferdinand kicked down a notch. Now, she cursed whatever part of her desired that.

Now, she just pitied him.

She sat down next to him. She tried to put an arm around him to comfort him, but he shook it away. He steadied himself, regaining what little composure he had left.

Edelgard saw another wave of pain wash over him. He once again reached for his side.

“How bad is it?” Edelgard asked.

Ferdinand remained tacit.

“Don’t ignore me. I doubt I need to reiterate that I am your house leader. This is something I must know.”

After a beat, Ferdinand responded. “A broken rib. Manuela says it may take a few days.”

Edelgard frowned. “You’re in no state to fight. I want you sitting out of this next mission.”

Ferdinand protested. “That will not be necessary! I am still fit for battle.”

She ignored his petitions. “This isn’t up for negotiation. You need the rest. And you _need_ a break.”

He did not argue further. His spirit was diminished.

“I’ll also instruct the professor to take Dorothea off the roster too.” She said. His nostrils flared. “I want you both to take that time to sort this feud out.”

Ferdinand clenched his fists again.

“… and if you need, no, _want_ assistance resolving this, please come to me.” Edelgard added. “I promise to help however I can.”

“I don’t know if…” Ferdinand began. Edelgard caught him silently mouth “ _you can_.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Edelgard reassured him. “Not as your liege, not as your leader, but as your _friend_. I’m here for you.”

Ferdinand stifled another sob. He looked out of his window. “For all that it is worth,” he whispered, “thank you.”

After he had settled down, Edelgard excused herself and made her way down to the lower dorms. She shooed a handful of eavesdropping Lions away from Ferdinand's room, shooting them disappointed glances as she went.

She stepped out into the snow. She hadn't dressed warmly enough to face the cold. She didn't have any time to prepare.

This situation was simply thrust at her, and she doubted that she or the rest of her classmates would find any rest until it was settled.

She trudged up the steps and onto the row of rooms where the rest of the Eagles resided. Dorothea's room was open, and her crying along with reassurances from Linhardt could be heard from within.

Edelgard made it to the opening and knocked. Linhardt acknowledged with a groggy nod. Dorothea sat on her bead with her head in her hands, shooting a sideways glance at her.

"Linhardt," Edelgard asked softly. "May I have the room?"

"Of course." Linhardt replied. As he stepped out, Edelgard grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, in front of Petra's room.

"Is she alright?" Edelgard quietly queried.

Linhardt didn't speak, but Edelgard interpreted his expression to be an incredulous _Ya think?_

"Physically." Edelgard corrected.

"Quite so. Not a scratch or bruise on her." Linhardt matter-of-factly responded.

Edelgard exhaled a sigh of relief. Ferdinand hadn't attacked her. One rumor down.

"Head back to your room." Edelgard commanded. "I'll take things over from here."

"Make it quick," Linhardt said as he dismissed himself. "I can't sleep in with all this racket."

Edelgard scowled under her breath. _Selfish prick_

She entered Dorothea's room and closed the door behind her, moving to take a seat by Dorothea's side.

"Hey Edie." Dorothea squeaked. She sounded timid.

"Dorothea." Edelgard replied. She didn't know where to start, but she had to begin somewhere. "Are you alright?" 

"Yes. No. _I don't know_." Dorothea admitted.

"He didn't... you're not hurt, are you? He didn't..." Edelgard pried.

"No." Dorothea cut her off sharply. "He didn't. At least, I don't think so. But I... I think..." another wave of sobs. "Goddess, Edie, I think _I_ hurt _him_."

"He's okay." Edelgard reassured.

"No, he isn't!" Dorothea contradicted. "I saw him, he's... he's wounded! And I don't know what's wrong with him or Manuela or anyone, and _nobody will tell me what happened!_ " Dorothea's voice cracked as she forced herself through the last few words.

Edelgard moved in for a hug. Dorothea accepted gratefully.

"He'll tell you soon. I've ordered him to stand down from the mission this moon." Edelgard stated. "I want you to take a break as well."

Dorothea exhaled sharply, taking in the news. "You think he'll listen to you?"

Edelgard laughed. "Disobeying one's liege is an act of treason. Ferdinand is a lot of things, but he's no traitor."

Dorothea giggled weakly. "I didn't realize you thought so highly of him."

Edelgard smiled. "You and I both know he's a nuisance. But he's also our friend."

Dorothea went silent.

Edelgard resumed "You both need to talk, and sort out whatever this is." She paused. "But you also both need time. I hope the next few days are enough for you two."

With a steadying breath, Dorothea asked "What if it's not enough?"

Edelgard smirked. "It will be. If it's not, I may have to issue him more orders."

Another laugh, this one less strained than before. "Edie, your authority isn't boundless. This might be out of your hands."

Edelgard straightened her posture. Dorothea continued "I... I think I messed up. And with how I've been treating him, I don't know if he can forgive me."

Edelgard patted her back. "Relax. This is Ferdinand we're talking about. _Ferdie_." Edelgard tried his pet name on for size. It rolled off her tongue with ease. "He couldn't stay mad at anyone, least of all you. He'll come around."

"I don't know..." Dorothea quivered again. "I've never seen him refuse tea before."

Edelgard stifled a laugh.

Dorothea sniffled. "But I want to trust you." Dorothea met Edelgard's eyes. "I can't... I don't want him to hate me."

"He wont. He doesn't. He never has." Edelgard dismissed Dorothea's fears. With an impish grin, Edelgard leaned in for a whisper. "In fact..." Dorothea raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I don't think I've ever seen him this worked up over a girl before." She teased, playfully elbowing Dorothea.

Dorothea's cheery countenance returned. "Oh, _stop it!_ " she demanded with a blush.

Both of them smiled, their spirits returned. Edelgard was gleeful to see Dorothea back to being herself again.

After a bit more teasing, Edelgard readied to excuse herself.

"I must be going now. I need to make some arrangements with the Professor." As she made for the door, she turned and reminded "Dorothea, don't forget what I've said. Take the next few days off. Give yourself a break."

Dorothea stopped Edelgard's retreat with a hug. "I will, Edie. _Thanks_." She squeezed tighter. _"Really."_

Edelgard hugged back, and then withdrew from the embrace. As she closed the door behind her, her ears picked up Dorothea humming, matching the tune of the birdsongs that brightened the crisp winter air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! 
> 
> My first draft of this resolution left me unfulfilled, and after sleeping on it I doubled the length of this last chapter to give Dorothea some extra screen time. I'm far more pleased with the chapter now that the second half has been added.
> 
> Let me know what you think, I really enjoy any kind of feedback and I love discussing my works. Thanks again!


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